Of Treacle Tart and Business Dinners
by littlebluedress016
Summary: Harry Potter never liked his parents annual dinner. But maybe this year, something would make him change his mind.


WARNING: A/U. NO WIZARDS HERE. Oh, and while we're at it, no, I don't own anything you recognize. So don't sue me, I'm broke. And you might end up deaf or something because I talk _a lot. _Especially when I'm mad. HAHAHA XD

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Harry Potter never liked his parents' annual business dinner.

James and Lily Potter were both very well-known lawyers and that meant they had a lot of connections- both personal and professional acquaintances alike. They invite them over to their home once a year for a gathering, to connect with them more. Harry knew that it was necessary, but that doesn't mean that he liked being stuck in the middle of it all, with no one to talk to, having to listen to discussion after discussion of economics, business and politics- things that did not interest him in the slightest.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Lily Potter said as she straightened his tie, "I know you don't like it, but could you please bear with it for a few hours? This is important."

"I know it is," Harry muttered. "I understand."

Lily kissed her son's forehead and said, "Thank you."

"Lily," James called, "we need to go."

"Come, sweetheart," Lily said, ushering her son into the garden.

"Hello, Mrs McCulkin," James greeted an elderly woman wearing a plum velvet dress. "How are you?"

"Splendid, James m'boy, just splendid!" she replied eagerly. "Thank you for your invitation, you never forget…"

"It's nothing, Mrs McCulkin, you remember Lily?" he said, nodding towards his wife. "And our son Harry?"

"Of course, Lily, you look magnificent! And Harry, you're a lot bigger than I remember."

"You saw me last year, Mrs McCulkin and I've only grown three inches since then," Harry pointed out.

"Really? Forgive the old girl then, dear, my memory is not as good as it used to be…" she chuckled lightly.

"Excuse us, Mrs McCulkin," James said politely. "We have to entertain our other guests."

"Of course, of course!" she waved an airy hand, turning to the left. "Oh, I see Rebecca Smith! Oh, Rebecca!" She then rushed off to greet her friend, whom Harry recognized as a presiding judge.

He turned to the doorway, silently praying that someone, _anyone_, save him from a night of mindless mingling and formality.

Then he saw her.

She looked just as reluctant- if not more- than he did, a frown visible in her features. She was pretty, not stunningly pretty, but good looking all the same. She wore a white dress, her brown hair in a high ponytail and her hands clasped and her hands clutching a white purse.

Suddenly the night became a little more bearable.

"Oh, Andrew and Jacqueline!" Lily said, brushing past her son to greet- whom Harry assumed- the girl's parents.

"I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Thank you for the invitation, Lily," said the mother.

"It's no problem, please, make yourself comfortable," Lily smiled. She noticed the younger girl between her parents looking around the house, surveying her surroundings. "And who is this pretty young woman?"

"This is our daughter, Hermione," said Jacqueline. "She's not fond of gatherings, but I thought it would be nice to take her along."

"How do you do, Mrs Potter? You have a lovely home, by the way," Hermione greeted politely.

"Thank you, dear, it's good that you came. I have a son and he gets bored. It'll be nice to have someone his age to talk to tonight," she looked over her shoulder. "Dinner will be served shortly. I'll take you to the dining room."

They followed her, amiably talking about their latest exploits. Hermione just kept quiet, unaware that Harry had his eyes on her.

Dinner was served, a sumptuous four-course meal Lily had put together. Then the adults began to talk business, all of them immersed in their own conversations to notice that Harry had already propped his chin on his palms and was pushing the remains of his dinner around and Hermione was fiddling with the lace in her dress.

"Harry?" Lily called out, "I'm sorry to bother you, darling, but if you want more dessert, there's some more treacle tart in the kitchen."

Harry nodded, glad to be able to leave the table.

"Oh, and take Hermione with you."

Hermione looked up in surprise. "Oh, no, I'm fine," she said.

"Why don't you go with him, dear, so that you won't be lonely all by yourself. Please, I insist."

Hermione thought it would be rude to say no, so she nodded and followed Harry to the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry you're stuck with me," Hermione said quietly, not meeting Harry's eye. They settled themselves on stools next to the counter. "If you want to leave, that's fine with me."

"It's nothing," Harry said quickly. "It's nice to have someone my age. Every year it's the same old people and the same boring conversation. It's tiring. I'm glad you're here, really."

Hermione blushed. "I don't usually go for these things, but my mother made me come, she says I need to leave my books once in a while."

"A studious one, eh?" Harry said. And after thinking- and failing- to come up with a conversation topic, he settled for "Which university are you aiming for anyway?"

"Oxford," Hermione said, watching Harry take out a freshly baked treacle tart and cutting two slices, "I'm hoping to get into the medical program."

"You want to be a doctor?" Harry raised his eyebrows as he placed the dessert onto separate plates.

"A paediatrician," Hermione explained. "I want to help kids. What about you? Which school are you hoping to get into?"

"Oxford, too, because that's my parents' alma mater," Harry answered, offering her the plate, which she accepted with a word of thanks. "I don't really know which course I want to go to, but I'm pretty sure I'll end up there."

Hermione laughed. "No plans yet, eh?"

"Oh, whatever," Harry scoffed. "I'm just hoping to finish secondary school."

"I don't mean it as an insult," Hermione amended.

"I didn't take it as one."

Hermione helped herself to the tart. "This is delicious!"

"My mum made it," Harry told her. "It's my favourite."

"It's great," Hermione said, taking another bite. "My mum doesn't cook much; it's my dad who does more of the cooking. Mum joked that she would end up making the house explode if she attempted to cook. Dad actually banned her from the kitchen," she added, laughing.

Harry joined her laughter. "Mum did the same for Dad," he related. "I guess that's something we have in common."

"I guess so," Hermione shrugged. Harry stood up and looked into the fridge. "Do you want so juice?"

"If you don't mind," Hermione said. "I'll get the glasses. Where are they?"

"Over there," Harry pointed at a cupboard just behind where Hermione was sitting.

Hermione nodded and took out two glasses, which Harry filled with cold orange juice.

"I think I like this better than dinner just now," Harry admitted.

"Me too."

The two talked the night away and realized that they have much in common. Hermione discovered that Harry is best friends with Ron Weasley, whose sister Ginny is a friend of hers. They made plans to meet later that week, with Harry promising to drag her out of the house if she refused to come out. Hermione laughed and told him, "Bring it on."

Before they knew it, they went through the whole of the tart, and it was time for Hermione to go.

As they said goodbye, Harry mustered his courage and called after her.

"Hermione?"

She turned to look at him.

"Will you sit next to me at next year's dinner?"

Hermione just smiled before she turned again to follow her parents into the car.

_I'll take that as a yes._

For the first time, he was looking forward to the next dinner party.

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Just something that popped into my head while I'm bored out of my mind. Review won't you?


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